A Performance of Murder
by mentalillusions
Summary: One day, after months of rejected sorrow, Thomas felt something snap, disappear, and that little voice inside his head which said 'this is wrong' was gone, leaving him with nothing but the decision that death was the only justice he could get for Jimmy's refusal of his love. Or Thomas goes crazy and decides to kill Jimmy! One-shot. Warnings for character death and murder.


Thomas sharpened his knife. Its once blunt blade was now suitably shiny, casting rays of light across the room as the sun streamed through the window. The sun was only just beginning to rise; he still had a good couple of hours before it would be wake up call. Not that he intended to do it in the house at the crack of dawn. _Oh no,_ for his crime of passion he wanted broad daylight, an audience to show up just a _little_ to late, as the curtains to his performance draw to a close, and the leading man has met his tragic end. And like all good playwrights, he would be discrete, _hidden_, watching the crowds reaction from afar, yet never going in, or admitting himself, that's not how it was in the business, and that's not how he intended to play the role. He would be staring in his own production. The boys at school always teased that he was the _theatrical sort_, and how right they would end up being, but not in a way that they ever would have intended. No one would have ever thought him capable of murder, not even himself. But everyone is capable; there is a darkness that lurks within, a place where love and hate meet to create something _beautifully_ foul. _But I am not foul_. His play would be a form of art, self expression, a portrayal of emotion; it would be the perfect balance of suspense, melodramatics, and tragedy. It would be his, a moment which was all his, not about anyone else, only about his love, his strong, _powerful_, love. It would be a production of _death_.

_Jimmy's death._

Lo, it would be beautiful! He knew that for a fact. It would hold all the atmosphere a love like theirs _should _have held. But alas, it never was. And now it shall never be for Jimmy. He would never have a love with him. _Not with anyone ever again._ No one would ever love Jimmy like he loved him. It would be a disgrace, an act against the Gods of love. _True love was sweet and rare. _But the footman insisted upon his love for _women_. That love would be a lie. And he would never allow that to happen. In a way, it was romantic he thought, he could have felt something real with him-something he'd have never felt with a kitchen maid or a London whore-so he would stop him from having _false_ feelings. And it would be beautiful, so unbelievably beautiful. Jimmy's death-it would be a sight only he would get to see. To be honest, he was no longer sure what beauty was anymore, he had believed it to be the love that he and Jimmy shared, but that was all _foul lies_. Jimmy had lied to his heart, lied to his eyes, lead him to see a future which the young footman would never allow. And that was unforgivable. _I am not foul._

It was hard to say how this new mindset came about, but one day, after months of rejected sorrow, he felt something snap, _disappear_, and that little voice inside his head which said _'this is wrong'_ was gone, and a new one started to encouraged his ideas. It told him his plan was the only way to achieve justice, to right what was wronged. Thomas was certain it was right.

Jimmy had made everyone see a foolish, broken man, a side of himself that wasn't theirs to see, it wasn't anyone's to see, because it wasn't there before Jimmy had come along. He had _made _him the emotional wreck he was. He made him into a joke amongst the staff. But how he loved him so, even after everything. It broke his heart, tore it to pieces and obliterated it completely every time he saw Jimmy flirt with Ivy, it was_ wrong._ He was _wrong._ Everything the young footman thought he felt was wrong. And he had made it clear he wouldn't let himself be found and guided, so Thomas was going to take control, if he wasn't going to pick the path that lead to him, he wasn't going to get any path at all. His only path now was to a ditch in the ground buried 6ft under. _His beauty hidden forever!_

Thomas slid the deadly implement into a sheath, ready for later use, and hid it under his pillow. He was going to savour this, and oh how hungry he was, starving for the taste of blood on his hands and a body sprawled out before him, lifeless and limp, just like what his heart had been reduced to.

* * *

Thomas stood in the shadows of the ally between two buildings watching picture goers stream out and pass him by unaware. He heard Jimmy's voice up ahead but stayed hidden. Tonight was his day off and he had chosen to go out. _Typical Jimmy, always out alone_. After checking through the diary, Thomas had _coincidently_ picked the same day.

He had been following him all day. Standing and watching in the distance. He really was a magnificent creature, and Thomas really was enjoying the thrill of the hunt, the _waiting_, always _waiting_ for the perfect moment to make his move. His body was buzzing with adrenaline as he felt his heart rate pick up.

Jimmy turned and walked off into the distance. Thomas followed, sheathed knife in hands, tightening and un-tightening his grasp on the handle. He stalked the blond into the woods, descending deeper and deeper into he darkness. _The lazy sod was taking a short cut._ Thomas snorted lightly. _A short cut to an early death. _The surroundings were _perfect_, almost too good to be true, so much atmosphere and energy absorbed within the trees. He couldn't have wished for a better place, _saves me having to drag him here kicking and screaming. _The setting was essential for creating the perfect performance.

His foot crunched over a twig and he kept his body close to a tree. Jimmy looked around wide eyed, before turning back, his initial panic settling down again. _Oh you are gorgeous when you're scared. And I'm going to make you terrified! _Thomas picked a branch up gingerly off the floor and scraped it along the tree. The footman turned around again, alarmed, and walked away faster.

Now was his time.

Quietly, he caught him up so that he was only a few paces behind. The light of the treeless land could be seen up ahead, they were approaching it quickly.

The under-butler broke into a sprint, to fast for Jimmy to react to the additional noise, and pulled the young blonds hands behind his back, holding them so that they were locked together and could not move. Jimmy screamed a noise far from masculine. The raven haired man pushed him forward so his body was flush against the ground, kneeling on his back to keep him from moving.

He bent forward to whisper in his ear:

_"guess who?"_ Thomas growled, almost sexually, in a deadly-playful voice.

Jimmy whimpered under him unknowing and confused.

He slid his legs to sit on either side of his waist on the ground, pulling the blond onto his back with his shoulders forcefully.

The footman gasped in recognition.

_"Thomas-"_

The under-butler put his hand over his mouth to silence him.

"You've had your chance to talk and make things clear. Now it's _my_ turn."

The blond breathed erratically under him.

"Thomas, I'm _sorry_, maybe I can give you what you want, if-" Jimmy muffled under his hand. Thomas removed it, eyes full of rage.

"It's too _late_ for that now, I've made up my mind" Thomas said running a hand over his cheek, "unlike you, I am a man, and I know what I want. I don't change my mind, and I don't go back on my word, not once I've said it. So don't you_ lie_ to me, not _again_" Thomas said, drawing his palm away, and moving it to the other side of his. Thomas swung the back of his hand into the footman's face in a vigorous slap.

Jimmy face contorted angrily.

"I don't know what you're playin' at Thomas but you've got to stop!" he bit back viciously.

Thomas gave a patronisingly cruel laugh.

"Why, didn't you know? The Great Jimmy Kent who knows _everything_, I'm going to kill you and leave you dead."

Jimmy's eyes went wide with shock, his mouth forming an _'o'_.

The older man smiled again in amusement.

"And this is a game Jimmy" he brought his face close so they were sharing breaths, "it's a game of _death_. Well, it's actually more like a play-_an audience participation play!_-you like plays, don't you Jimmy?" Thomas smirked at his own clever use of metaphors. "Of course you do! Everyone likes plays!" Thomas said with harsh optimism, bringing his lips to met Jimmy's, hovering just above.

He knew what he wanted from him, before he _died_. He wanted him to fix that night, the night it all went wrong, take it back, and tell him that he wasn't _foul_. However, there was a catch, but only one, which shouldn't be hard to fulfil with a future pointing to inevitable death.

_I am not foul._

"Kiss me" Thomas ordered, his breath against Jimmy's chin.

The footman continued to squirm, trying to pull his face away.

Thomas grabbed his chin, forcing him to keep eye contact.

"No!" The blond shouted, banging his arms against Thomas' chest.

"Yes. And you will do it _willingly_."

"I don't want to! What you gonna do, _make me_?" he protested hysterically.

Thomas drew the knife out from his inside pocket, flinging the sheath off with a flourish. He slowly brought it to the younger man's face, and glided it down his cheek gently. Not enough to do serious damage, but just enough to create a cut. Jimmy wailed in pain and shock, as blood began to roll down in his cheek. Thomas swished his tongue up the cut slowly, savouring the taste of Jimmy's helplessness in the form of blood, mingling with his taste buds, sinking into his body. Thomas drew back slightly, looking the footman in the eyes, and smiled. A part of Jimmy was inside of him. Sure, it was only blood, but it was _Jimmy's._

Thomas found this fact far more thrilling that he anticipated. He wanted _more._ He wanted to feel Jimmy _inside_ of him.

"We're going inside" Thomas said, removing his tie, and wrapping it around Jimmy's hands.

* * *

The walk back to the Abbey took far longer than it should have, what with Jimmy being difficult, Thomas ended up having to drag him, as well as hold a hand over his mouth.

Thomas lugged the footman upstairs to the guest bedrooms. The house was big and he knew if he picked a room on the west wing, away from the family, he could get the job done without being noticed, and not have to worry too much about the noise. _Plus, I've always wanted to lie in a big, fancy bed._

Thomas licked his lips in anticipation and threw Jimmy onto the bed excitedly. He made quick work of unbuttoning his trousers-pulling them down to his knees along with his underwear. Thomas sat on his heels by Jimmy's feet and smiled at the sight before him, he really was stunning. He quickly added _'see Jimmy nude'_ to his list of things to do before killing him, and proceeded to remove the rest of his clothes.

Jimmy started to cry and he felt a wave of guilt come over him. _This was not part of the plan_. And he speedily came to the conclusion that this would somehow dirty his romantic tale.

Thomas crawled up onto Jimmy's chest and stared at him for a moment, before relaxing his body to rest his head on the younger man's chest, listening to his heart beating thunderously within his ribcage. Tilting up his head, he looked up at the footman with a look in his eyes that said _'now'_

Thomas moved his face and body to look straight on, now so close so that their nose's lightly brushed against each other, and waited.

Tentatively, Jimmy pushed his lips to Thomas'. The younger man put far more effort into it than Thomas had expected, lightly sucking on his lower lip and giving it a gentle nip with his teeth. It felt _perfect._ Jimmy drew his face away, chest heaving up and down heavily with each breath, casting his gaze away to look at the bed sheets, blushing furiously.

_"Tell me I'm not foul"_ Thomas murmured quietly after a moment of watching the younger man.

Jimmy gave a miserable sigh, and turned his head to look at the other man.

"You are not foul Thomas, you're lost and confused and hurt, and I can see that now. But you're not foul."

Thomas let the words sink in, and although they probably weren't genuine, it felt good to hear them.

"Now, lets get on to business" Thomas said, taking the knife back out his coat.

Jimmy screamed as the blade cut through his skin, soon paralysed by the pain of the knife puncturing his heart. His voice was high and untamed and rung in Thomas' ears deafeningly. And then there was nothing but the hushed dribble of blood trickling down his bear skin, trailing along his chest and stomach, before puddling around his corpse on the bed. His face was frozen in his expression of horror. His entire body was still. And as the blood reached Thomas' feet, he knew he was well and truly dead.

But he didn't feel any different, nor better. And as his mind cleared from the fog of induced insanity, he realised what he'd done, and that little voice in the back of his head came back.

_"You did wrong"_ the voice of his conscious said, just when he thought it had been long since destroyed.

_"You will pay for you sins"_

And he did. He paid the only way he knew how. Pulling the knife out from Jimmy's body, he brought it to is own chest and pushed down, feeling it slid deep into his own flesh.

And with that, their story came to an end.


End file.
